the earth is run by mothers (Persephone help me)
by mcnootles
Summary: Cassia Coulter often wondered what would happen when she died. Not in terms of theology - she was confident of her place in heaven - but legacy. Every member of her family was likely to be remembered, for good or for bad, except for her. She didn’t really mind that. A great destiny had never been her dream, but family was what mattered, even if it meant a page in the history books.
1. 1

"Fix your hair; it's a mess, and we have company later."

The first words Cassia Coulter heard as she came home from her first term at school weren't as positive as she hoped, and she felt Doriophan slink between her legs, butting his head against her ankles for comfort. If mother was this tense, something had happened to set her off, and that did not bode well for a fun return.

"Yes, mother," she acquiesced, but, making sure to pick up Doriophan and hold him in her arms securely first, decided to tentatively seek the affirmation she'd expected upon her arrival. "But first-"

"First?" Her mother's tone was sharp, and Cassia felt Doriophan flinch. She just thanked the Authority that her mother's golden dæmon wasn't in the room; he unnerved Rio.

"I was simply going to ask if you had received my results yet. I was somewhat expecting them to be the first thing you mentioned."

And she was. Cassia had slaved all term to get the results she did, and given her mother's expectation for her to excel she had presumed that there would be some form of praise upon her return. She'd barely even seen any of her peers outside of class or study sessions, and her results had reflected the work she put in. She was probably more proud of them than she'd been when her mother had deemed her mature enough to start wearing heeled shoes when she was fourteen.

"Oh, yes, I received them about an hour ago. They were adequate, I suppose, for the first term, when you're still settling in, but I expect you to do better when you return."

"I was in the top ten!"

In her shock and, though she attempted to hide it, hurt, she had inadvertently allowed her voice to become a yell, and immediately regretted it at the sight of her mother's perfectly-groomed eyebrow raising, and her golden monkey sauntering into the room with far too casual an air.

"Yes, next term I would like you to reach the top three, I think. We can't have people thinking you're merely average, now can we? You'll never get a proper job in the Church that way. When you return, I expect you to put your head down and start working, like the intelligent young woman I know I raised."

Cassia deflated, all her anger draining away, though her grip on Rio tightened as he let out a small, barely audible mewl. Tears burned the back of her eyes but she refused to let them fall, so she just stood there in front of the lift, unsure of what to do next.

Seeing her hesitation, her mother softened and beckoned her over to her for a hug. Cassia opened her arms for Rio to jump out of and rushed over for the physical confirmation that her mother wasn't angry. Her mother's sleek blonde hair tickled her cheeks, but Cassia found herself unwilling to move it. "You know I only want the best for you. I only want you to reach your full potential, not squander your life away on foolishly seeking fun as a child."

"Yes, mother," Cassia choked out, straightening her spine and disentangling herself from the hug to look her mother in the eye as seriously as she could. "I won't let you down."

"I know, darling," her mother said, reaching over to fuss with one of Cassia's curls. "Now go and sort yourself out. I have a surprise for you before the party tonight."

Not wanting to make her mother repeat herself, Cassia smiled at her quickly and nodded before walking past her down the corridor to her bedroom. As soon as the door shut, Rio jumped onto the bed. "What do you think the surprise is?"

He never spoke in front of her mother, never had. The relationship between her mother and her monkey dæmon had always seemed slightly distant, and Cassia and Rio had been quick to pick up on it. They didn't know how, but somehow the monkey could bear to be further from her mother than Rio from her - as far as completely different rooms in the apartment. As a general rule, he tried to stay out of her way as much as he could.

"I don't know. She's in a strange mood. A new dress, perhaps? You know she likes to dress me up when we have people over."

Rio shook his head. "I don't think so. She'd have given it to you then, before you went to start getting ready."

"Alright, so what do you think it is?" Cassia asked, opening her wardrobe to try and choose an outfit. There was no point in doing her hair first, since pulling clothes over head would mess it up anyway, and her mother had taught her that the right clothes could draw eyes away from a small flaw in hair or makeup.

"I don't know, that's why I asked you," Rio snarked, flicking his tail lazily in amusement when Cassia shot him an irritated look.

"Whatever. Come over here and help me choose what to wear. I want to make mother happy so she'll forget about my terrible results."

"Your results were brilliant," Doriophan reminded her, but he jumped off the bed and peered up at the clothes in her wardrobe with her. She'd had enough clothes to require a walk-in wardrobe for as long as she could remember, and even so it was still too cramped. Rio was much better than her at spotting smaller items of clothing crushed between others, given his superior eyesight, and, honestly, no matter what she chose he would critique it enough she gave control back to him anyway. She liked to give him whatever power she could, given the dismissive view her mother had appointed to him ever since he settled. She'd been disappointed, Cassia supposed, at the form he'd taken - cats were a rather common dæmon, nothing like her mother's. Still, though it was both biased and vain, Cassia rather thought Rio was far prettier than any other cat dæmon she'd seen, with his glossy black fur and startling green eyes.

"Go for the navy dress with the Bardot sweetheart neckline. You know, the one with the puffy skirt and all the flowers. If it's a Church party, she'll appreciate the knee-length skirt; if it's not, it's still a good fit for your figure."

Cassia pulled the dress out and inspected it carefully. Rio was right, the modest skirt paired with a form-fitting waist and slight hint of cleavage was flattering yet still Church-appropriate. Besides, when she'd bought the dress without her mother prompting her choice, her mother had beamed with pride.

She quickly changed into it and pulled on a pair of pale pink _heeled_ pumps, before sitting down in front of the mirror. She'd need to do her makeup first, of course, since if her face looked ugly she'd be utterly unable to tell if the hair styling was adequate. Still, she took a moment as she sat down to inspect her face.

It was widely said that her mother was one of the most beautiful women in the world, and Cassia found it easy to believe. Even without her obvious physical beauty, there was an indomitable strength to her that was captivating to watch.

Cassia inherited some of it. She was pretty, for a teenager, though obviously she lacked some of the beauty that maturity, or finishing puberty brought. Her mother's high cheekbones were marred by the traces of baby fat she still retained, and she had always looked fairly young for her age. Less like a sixteen year old, and more like she was thirteen or fourteen. Still, there was no denying that she was pretty, despite looking quite different to her mother. She'd inherited her father's blue eyes over her mother's dark ones; her father's dark waves over her mother's straight blonde locks. Sometimes she wondered if her mother ever hated her for it.

She was well aware of her history, after all, despite what her mother chose to believe. Marisa van Zee married Edward Coulter fairly young for political power, then had her. When she was about four, she distinctly remembered her mother being pregnant again, but supposedly losing the baby. When her mother told her her father died as a victim of cold-blooded murder, Cassia thought it best not to tell her that she remembered her father's rage, his rants of a child not his own. He had gone to kill the living baby of another man, and come back dead.

Surely her mother hated him. He killed her baby. Cassia hated him too when she thought that she could have had a sister, even just a half-sister, if not for him. She hated him when she forgot about the fond memories of childhood and remembered instead the night he swore and blustered and terrified her as he made plans to kill an innocent child.

"You're going to be late," Rio drawled as Cassia blinked the thoughts away and realised she'd been sat at the mirror for ten minutes and not done anything.

"I'm not," she returned, and began preparing herself. At sixteen, her mother didn't allow much makeup, but Cassia knew what she was doing with what she had. She didn't need much anyway - just a coral eyeshadow to match the flowers on the dress, and some mascara to highlight the fact that she did in fact actually have eyes. Clear skin and strong eyebrows were a gift from her mother, and as such her beauty routine was fairly short.

Having no time to sort out the frizz which had been wrecked by sleeping on the Zeppelin home, Cassia quickly braided it into a crown as close to her head as possible. Hopefully the escaping wisps would look less like she'd been dragged through a hedge and more like an artistic choice.

"Lovely," Rio commented impatiently as she surveyed herself, walking over to the doorway. "Now can we see what this surprise is?"

"Why are you so invested?" Cassia asked in amusement, though she did open the door and start following him to the main living room. "You've never cared this much about other surprises."

"I don't know. I just feel strange."

"Strange how?"

"Like something's going to happen."

"What on earth could happen at one of mother's parties? They may be the dullest events in the world."

"I don't _know_, Cassia. I just feel like this surprise is important."

Cassia regarded him, unsure of how to feel. She'd never seen Doriophan so unsure before, or so agitated. Usually he liked to pretend he knew everything. "Alright," she said, stopping before the door, ignoring the servants setting up. "So what-"

"Who are you?" A childish voice interrupted her, and Cassia turned, confused, to see a young girl looking at her suspiciously, her dæmon resting on her shoulder in the form of some kind of rodent she didn't recognise.

"Who are _you?_" Cassia retorted, bemused at the question being aimed at her in her own home.

The little girl turned her chin up, looking more proud than she had any right to be at her age. "Like I'll tell a trespasser anything."

Trespasser? If anybody here was a trespasser, it would have to be the child, Cassia surmised, given that she was too young to be invited and her outfit most certainly didn't resemble that of the servants. Besides, anybody who belonged in her home should know who she was. "I believe you have me mistaken for somebody else... and most likely this apartment too."

Shaking her head, the child stood her ground. "I know where I am, it's you that 'ent got a clue."

Well, that was mildly surprising. The girl's dress was of fine quality and looked rather expensive, with a similar style to those Cassia had worn at her age, but her accent and speech were of a child raised on the street. It was rather jarring to notice the contrast between sight and sound.

"Cassia," her mother's voice called from inside the main living room, and Cassia quickly entered, unwilling to keep her waiting after an already rocky start. To her surprise, the girl followed behind her, but her mother didn't seem to miss a beat. "Ah, I see you've met my assistant already. Well, that does ruin the surprise rather."

Cassia blinked and looked at Rio, who appeared to be just as bewildered. "Assistant?" Why on earth would her mother choose a little girl to assist her when she had Church funding for whatever she required?

"Yes," her mother said calmly, taking no note of the shock colouring Cassia's tone. "She's been quite indispensable. I thought it would be quite nice for you two to meet before the party, get to know each other as the only two children in the house."

What was it, Cassia wondered, with the adult assumption that all children were the same? She didn't know a single other sixteen year old who would actively desire to spend much time with a little twelve year old, as the girl looked to be.

There was no way she would voice this thought to her mother, though, so she instead turned to the girl, who looked to be rather confused too. "What's your name then?" She asked the girl, unwilling to keep calling her by descriptors if she did indeed belong there.

The girl's brown eyes darted to Cassia's mother, and she only answered when they received an affirming nod. "Lyra," she stayed. "Lyra Belaqua, and this is Pantalaimon. What about you?"

"Cassia Coulter," Cassia replied, taking a small satisfaction in seeing Lyra's mouth open in surprise. At least she wasn't the only one who was shocked by the events of the day, though she would have hoped that her mother would have at least mentioned her. "My dæmon's name is Doriophan. I suppose yours is still unsettled."

"Yes," Lyra said, scowling at the thought of that changing. "Is he?"

"I'm sixteen. He settled years ago."

"Oh. You don't look it."

Cassia flushed at the comment, sick of the constant references to her short height and baby face. It wouldn't be so bad in a couple of years when she would look sixteen, but it was torture to be constantly asked about her dæmon settling when Rio had been a cat for years. She wasn't actually a child anymore, despite the baby fat. Still, with her mother right there, clearly wanting them to get along, she bit her tongue. For whatever reason, her mother had chosen Lyra to be her assistant, which meant disrespect would be reflected onto her, and not tolerated.

The conversation died after the obligatory introductions, Lyra looking sullen for some reason and Cassia just unsure of what else to actually say. She didn't have much experience with children younger than her, and honestly she was still a little confused as to why the girl was there. What point would there be in getting to know her if she'd be gone in a few days, when her mother realised the absurdity of hiring a twelve year old with the vocabulary of a servant.

"How lovely," Cassia's mother smiled, looking unusually pleased. "Lyra, darling, could you please go and start helping set up? Guests will be arriving soon. Cassia, a word, please."

As Lyra obeyed, Cassia took a seat, hoping to receive an explaination. "Your assistant is a thirteen year old girl."

"Twelve, actually," her mother corrected. "I find it refreshing to see the childish wonder for exploring. I must have lost that years ago."

"How did you even meet?" Cassia asked, pushing down the internal questioning of why her mother never asked her to join in with her work. Thoughts like that would lead her nowhere. "I can't imagine your work brings you into contact with many children."

"Of course not," her mother said sharply, looking up with an almost glare on her face, before it smoothed over as quickly as it came. "Lyra was raised at Jordan College. A friend of mine there wondered if I'd like to take her on."

A twelve year old girl was raised at Jordan College? The last time Cassia checked, that particular institute only patronised adult men. Her less than positive expression must have shown on her face, because her mother took her hands with an imploring look in her eye. "Cassia, I do hope you can get along. Lyra's been here for about six weeks, and I've grown to quite depend on her."

"She's lived here for a month and a half." Cassia stood up, uncertain as to why that fact upset her so much. She pulled her hands away and took a step back, instinctively seeking Rio.

"What is it?" Her mother sighed impatiently.

"There's been somebody living in my home for six weeks and you didn't feel the need to inform me."

Standing up too, her mother towered over her. "No, I didn't, seeing as you weren't actually home for it to affect you. You were informed when you arrived back, when it became pertinent information."

"Of course," Cassia bit out, conscious of the servants scurrying around and setting up. "Excuse me."

She strode out of the room, Rio following with dignity, though she could feel his wariness of the golden monkey watching from the corner of the room. The urge to slam the door like a child was resisted, but when she saw Lyra's face peeking out of another room, she couldn't bring herself to offer a friendly smile.

In the safety of her own bedroom, she collapsed onto her bed, burrowing her face into Rio's fur. "It's like she's replacing us," he muttered bitterly, shifting slightly to rest his paw on her back. "With a less refined version of us."

"That's mean, Rio," Cassia reprimanded, though the sentiment was slightly lost through a mouthful of fur. "It's not her fault mother chose her."

Though her words were accepting, inside Cassia was raging. She was made into a stranger in her own home, knowing less than some girl from Oxford about the workings of the place she'd been raised. It was childish, but it wasn't fair!

A knock at the door made her sit up and straighten her outfit on autopilot. "Come in," she called, feeling rather like her mother in allowing or disallowing entry. To her disappointment, it was Lyra who opened the door with an awkward air. "What is it?"

Lyra shifted, shutting the door behind her. It was petty, but Cassia found herself watching the girl, looking for what she had that she didn't. "I just wanted to say... I dunno. Just that I didn't know Mrs Coulter had a daughter before, so I thought I might have been a bit unproper or something."

Technically she had been improper, accusing Cassia of being an intruder in her own home, but the girl was apologising, and also a whole four years younger, so she allowed it. "Not at all. In truth, I was rather unprepared for you too, so we're on even footing."

Apologies done, an uncomfortable silence filled the room, until Cassia decided to at least make an attempt at conversation. Her mother wanted them to get along, and she _had_ just told Rio that it wasn't Lyra's fault she was her mother's chosen replacement. If she acted like a hyprocrite he'd never let her live it down. "I hear you grew up at Jordan. Were you a student there?"

"Not really," Lyra said, glad to have something to say. "Some of the scholars gave me lessons but I 'ent a student. I was meant to go to St Sophia's when I'm old enough."

"It's a good school," Cassia acknowledged. "I considered attending Sophia's, but in the end I opted for Saint Bartholomew's College."

"They don't allow girls at Saint Barth's."

"Not usually. My father was a student there, and since he had no son to pass on his place to, mother was able to pull a few strings and get me an interview and the chance to take the entry exam. I'm the only female student, but there are a few other girls around to spend time with - the children of scholars and such. Besides, I think mother is rather hoping I find an appropriate husband there, since Sophia's is girls-only."

Lyra frowned at that for some reason. "You're too young to get married."

"Obviously. But the best way to get a good position in society these days is through marriage, since the path of priesthood is barred to women. Mother was married when she was eighteen, I'll likely do the same."

Lyra shivered and stuck her tongue out in disgust. "I'm never getting married."

Cassia forced back a laugh, aware that she would probably offend Lyra if she did. "You'll probably feel differently when you're older."

"You're not much older than me."

"My dæmon's settled," Cassia pointed out, the clearest marker of maturity possible. It was nice to be the older one for a change.

"I don't ever want Pan to settle either."

Her mother was right, Cassia decided. Lyra's childish, honest outlook was refreshing compared to the double meanings and politics of most of the adults she knew. She'd only known her for a few minutes, but there was an endearing charm to her.

Behind her, Rio shifted closer to her, looking over her leg to get a closer look at Pantalaimon. "I liked settling. I feel more myself now. More comfortable."

"Your dæmon's very pretty," Lyra remarked carelessly, clearly trying to change the subject away from settling. "Your dress, too. And your room. Mine's lovely, but it's not very me yet. I suppose I haven't been there long enough to leave my mark. Are you really Miss Coulter's daughter?"

"Yes," Cassia replied, slightly distracted by the rambling.

"I'm an orphan," Lyra said, and Cassia felt a stab of guilt for her feelings of resentment at being replaced. She didn't know what she'd do if she didn't have her mother. "Your mother's very nice. I think she must be a very good one."

"She is," Cassia said, standing up and walking over to Lyra, Rio following. "The best. And I know she cares about you too, otherwise you wouldn't be here."

"As her assistant."

"She's never had a twelve year old assistant before. She likes you, Lyra. She may not be your mother but I bet she'd act like it if you wanted. I bet she's already been dressing you and teaching you all kinds of things."

Sacrifice was a good thing. The Authority demanded it all the time in the Scripture, from Abraham and Paul and others, so it must be. Generosity, too, was a holy act. Sharing her mother with an orphan, even if it made her feel a bit odd, could only be a good act.

"Geography, mostly," Lyra agreed. "I want to go North and be an explorer."

"I'd hate the North," Cassia admitted ruefully, wishing it wasn't true so perhaps she could be invited on her mother's excursions. "I can't abide the cold. If I had to explore, I think I'd go South to research Zombis or something, but I'd rather stay home."

"What are Zombis?" asked Lyra, looking excited at the prospect of fresh ideas of exotic things to learn about.

"I don't know, exactly. We haven't actually covered them at school, I just read a short paragraph about them in something else. From what I can gather, they're some kind of half-man - they function, but they're not properly alive like you and me. You'd be better off asking mother; I think she wrote a bit about them in _The Bronze Clocks of Benin_."

As Pantalaimon scampered up her arm, Lyra let out a small shrug. "I'd rather ask her about armoured bears. Did you know they have poisonous livers? I wish I had a poisonous liver so if anyone tried to kill me I could shove my liver in their face and they'd have to stop."

"I'm not sure that's quite how that works," Cassia started, but thought better of continuing when she saw the excited look on Lyra's face. "But I'm sure you'll be a wonderful explorer."

"What do you want to do?" Lyra asked abruptly. "Since you don't want to explore."

"I don't really know. I suppose I'll go into politics or something."

"That sounds boring," Lyra said, and privately Cassia had to agree. To be honest, every job she'd ever heard about sounded boring. In an ideal world she would be able to just not do anything, but she somehow doubted her mother would support that.

Through the door, Cassia heard her mother calling for her, and gave an apologetic smile to Lyra. "The party must have started. Do you want to go in with me? I know most of mother's regular guests, I can introduce you."

"I can't." Lyra shook her head. "I 'ent a guest like you. I'm supposed to be giving people drinks and stuff."

"I'll speak to you afterwards, then," Cassia promised, ushering Lyra and Pan out of her room so she could lock it. There was nothing she hated more than people looking for the bathroom accidentally wandering into her private space.

Hearing her mother call again, she quickly reached down to smooth Rio's fur before walking as quickly as possible without looking foolish into one of the rooms accessible for guests. Mother hated having to repeat instructions. Upon her entry, the party around her mother all looked up, giving Cassia the distinct impression they had just been talking about her. Pushing down the surge of uneasiness she felt, she forced a smile on her face and stride forward to join them.

"Lord Boreal, Mr Kircher, Father Garret, it's a pleasure to see you again. I see you all far too infrequently for my liking."

"The grievance is, of course, mutual," Lord Boreal acknowledged, his expression one of distaste towards her presence. He had always frightened Cassia a little, though she'd never been able to pinpoint why. Her mother loathed him too, though in person she was always well beyond the requirements of cordiality.

In contrast, Mr Kircher looked positively ecstatic to see her. "Cassia Coulter, haven't you grown up wonderfully. My Edward goes to school with you, and he's quite besotted."

Edward Kircher was a lovely boy, and would probably be a good match in her mother's opinion. His father, Athanasius, was the author of _Polymathestatos: A Festschrift in honour of Joscelyn Godwin_, which was so highly regarded that the family gained both riches and political power.

With the glow of the certainty of her mother's approval, evidenced by her surprised but pleased smile, as well as the knowledge that, of all the boys she attended school with Edward was one of the nicest and therefore would likely make a much more pleasant husband, Cassia allowed her smile to grow softer, and carefully tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear just like her mother had taught her. "Oh, yes, Edward's a simply wonderful boy. He's in my study group and I must say his mind is truly brilliant, it's a marvel to spend time with him."

Mr Kircher laughed good-naturedly, but Father Garret and Lord Boreal's expressions hardened at the small talk. Her mother clearly noticed too, as she clasped Cassia's shoulder and gently pushed her away. "Go make some more introductions, Cassia, darling. I expect you to be a good host to our guests while I take care of some business for the moment."

Whatever they needed to talk about, Cassia clearly wasn't supposed to hear it, so she gladly took the opportunity to flee and hopefully find a guest she knew better to talk to. "Yes, mother. Is Princess Postnikova in attendance?"

"Unfortunately, no, she had a prior obligation today, but she did request I pass her regards on to you. Now, go."

Well, that was Cassia's best hope ruled out, she thought glumly as she searched for a familiar face who didn't bore her to tears. The Princess was only a couple of years older than her, and far more interesting than any of the old politicians and priests who were always invited. When she attended, she usually sought Cassia out to talk about literally anything other than religion or academia.

She wandered aimlessly for a few minutes, peering into rooms and smiling in a friendly way at guests as she passed, but making no real effort to engage in conversation. There was an odd tension in the air, guests stopping their conversations when she passed by far more than usual. Either there was something big happening in government that hadn't reached the news yet, or there was a scandal that people thought she was too young to know about. Cassia was leaning towards the latter, and the thought annoyed her. She had reached womanhood years ago when Rio settled, she was more than old enough to hear about some stupid political scandal.

While away at school she had somehow managed to forget how unbearable mother's parties were.

At least Lyra was suffering along with her this time. Cassia caught a glimpse of her occasionally, holding a tray of champagne glasses and wearing the expression of a girl about to drop dead from boredom. Not for the first time, Cassia was thankful for having the ability to put on a faux-interested face so as not to offend the leaders of the country.

Excusing herself from joining a conversation about the Magisterium's plan to open a new Academy, she finally caught sight of a person she wanted to speak to and had to actively restrain a squeal. "Uncle!" She exclaimed, weaving through guests with the first genuine smile of the night. "I didn't know you were coming. It's been ages."

Her uncle turned around with open arms, which Cassia gladly flung herself into. Marcel Delamare wasn't in London very often, his work being centred in Geneva, but he adored his family. "I told your mother I wasn't, but I heard about your guest and I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Me? Why wouldn't I be alright?" Cassia asked in confusion at the concern, watching her uncle's snowy owl dæmon flutter it's wings nervously.

Her uncle chuckled, looking around at the other guests, but the sound was slightly off. "Ah... well, not everybody particularly likes having people they don't know living with them. When you were eight you said you were going to run away because your mother had a visitor stay with you for three days."

"I was eight, Uncle," Cassia emphasised, but there was something strange about his answer. It was like the entire party was keeping something from her, her uncle included. The thought made her feel uncomfortable, so she returned back to the happiness of a family reunion. "Have you seen my end of term results from Saint Bart's?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure you can tell me."

"I placed eighth in the year!"

Her uncle's face split into a grin, and Cassia found herself mirroring it automatically. Finally, somebody was as proud of her work as she was. "You are just like your mother. Give you a few years and I'm sure you'll be running your own subdivision of the Magisterium."

The praise was exaggerated, but the comparison to her mother made Cassia beam with pride. "Thank you, Uncle. Oh, have you given any thought as to allowing me to visit Geneva? Mother goes North soon, and likely won't be at home when my next holiday comes around. I know there aren't many women at your work, but I would stay at your residence and not cause any bother, or perhaps do some sightseeing. I am capable of taking care of myself, I promise."

"A well stated case," her uncle remarked. "Of course you are welcome, though I may not be able to spend much time with you. Any minute I get to spend with family is a blessing. If you want, you may bring a friend to keep you company in the day."

"Thank you!" Cassia exclaimed, feeling Rio perk up at her feet. Her uncle's owl, Andromeda, fluttered to the floor and softly stroked Rio with her wing as Cassia once again hugged her uncle. She had been dreading spending the next holiday alone, or with some chaperone her mother would arrange, who would likely be awfully dull. Besides, Geneva was a lot warmer than London.

"Is your mother home? I would like to speak to her about something," her uncle asked, carefully extracting himself from the hug. His tone changed, becoming harsher, and Cassia took a quick step back.

"She's talking to Lord Boreal and Father Garret. I don't think I'm allowed too near that kind of conversation."

"A pity, I cannot stay long. I shall simply have to express myself to her in writing. Be good, Cassia."

Cassia blinked. "You're leaving already?"

Her uncle nodded, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, but I was only passing through London. I managed a quick stop to make sure you weren't too upset, but I must be back in Geneva post-haste. Heretics seem to grow on trees these days."

"I can pass your message to my mother along for you," Cassia offered, unwilling to cause a scene at an event, though she had been unable to prevent her face from falling slightly.

"I'm afraid that's not a good idea. There are certain things that are entirely unsuitable for you to hear."

Of course there were. Both Cassia's mother and her uncle were highly regarded within the Church, so obviously there was sensitive information they were privy to. Still, something about his tone made Cassia wonder if perhaps the conversation he wanted was more personal. What it could be about that she couldn't be told, though, she had no idea.

"Of course," she said graciously, hiding her desire to know more. Her uncle didn't like withholding information from her usually, but he loved her mother and would never tell her anything she didn't want her to know. "I'll see you next term then, I suppose."

"I look forward to it," her uncle smiled, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear. "But I really must be going. Come, Andromeda, we mustn't miss our flight."

He left, and Cassia noticed absently that the lift was unlocked. It usually was, during parties, but the sight was still odd, and made her slightly uncomfortable. The idea of anybody being able to walk into her home at their leisure wasn't one she cherished, despite the knowledge that her mother would never allow such a thing to happen. She resisted the urge to go and lock it, a strange sense of paranoia washing over her.

"Cassia," Rio hissed, scratching at her leg, though he had retracted his claws enough that there would be no red lines. Cassia couldn't even imagine what her mother would say if she was at a party covered in scratches and cuts. "We need to mingle. Stop staring at the lift."

"Right," Cassia muttered as she slowly turned around, preparing herself for an afternoon of small talk. For possibly the first time, she wished that this was one of her mother's parties thrown for her to attract a future husband. At least then Edward Kircher or someone else she could hold conversation deeper than politics or the weather with would be there. "Lady Dustin, it's so good to see you! How are Eliza and Jennifer?"

Twenty minutes later, all Cassia had learned was that Jennifer had learned to say "Authority" and was therefore destined for greatness, while Eliza had started wanting to wear trousers like her father, which was completely unacceptable. Personally, Cassia couldn't see a problem with it, though she wasn't sure why anybody would want to wear trousers when skirts are far prettier. There was so little variation in men's clothing - at least, for the men Cassia would be allowed to associate with. She didn't really know what Gyptians or anyone else wore.

The rest of the conversation centred around a man in Iyreland who was trying to get into Brytain to spread heretical views here. Apparently he believed in some nonsense about The Authority being dead, but Cassia wasn't particularly worried. There were thousands of heretics, but the Magisterium were more than capable of protecting the people from them, her uncle especially. The chances she'd ever meet one were infinitesimally small.

The conversation came to a halt when Lyra barrelled past her, grabbing her by the arm on the way. The girl was practically shaking, tears swimming in her eyes, but she looked at Cassia with defiance once they came to a stop in what Cassia assumed was Lyra's bedroom. "Did you know?" Lyra demanded, and Cassia was left at a loss. Lyra's behaviour was absurd.

"Know what?"

"That she's a Gobbler!" Lyra exploded, though with a terrified glance at the shut door she lowered her voice halfway through the sentence. Pan circled Rio carefully in the form of a fox, bigger than Rio was. Despite the obvious predatory actions, he looked more cautious than anything else, like he was ready to defend himself.

Cassia paused for a second, feeling like she was in a dream. Words were coming out of Lyra's mouth but she had no idea what they were. "Who's a Gobbler? What _is_ a Gobbler?"

"Child-snatchers," Lyra wailed, and Cassia took a step back. Her mother's assistant didn't seem to be entirely with it. "They took Roger."

Now Cassia was convinced that something was wrong. Whatever stories Lyra had heard about kidnappers, there was likely to be little truth to them. When she was twelve, she had believed in people born without dæmons coming to steal Rio away from her, and that was completely made up. Still, Lyra was erratic, and she didn't want to upset her further by accidentally implying that she thought she was crazy, or a liar. "Who's a child-snatcher?" It wasn't as though she and Lyra had many mutual acquaintances... none that she knew of, for that matter.

"Mrs Coulter!" Lyra hissed, but Pantalaimon backed away from Rio, turning into his rodent form again and scampering into Lyra's hand. Clearly whatever threat they had sensed in Cassia had disappeared. "She's head Gobbler!"

"I-" Cassia started, but found that she didn't know what to say. Closing her mouth, she looked at Rio with a bewildered stare. "I need to get back to the party. Are you... are you alright?"

"Yes," Lyra said, seeming to recover from whatever was upsetting her with the flip of a switch. "I think I might need a bit of a rest. I'm very tired. Sorry for dragging you in here, you can go back now."

She plonked down on the bed, smiling more sweetly than seemed natural. Perturbed, Cassia just nodded and exited, seeking out her mother to see if Lyra needed somebody to talk to about something. Believing in local legends as a child was one thing, believing your guardian was some kind of villain in a story was another. Maybe Lyra was simply tired, but Cassia felt like she might need some form of professional help. Her mother would know better than she did.

As she entered the corridor, there was a line of guests exiting, all gossiping among themselves. Cassia frowned. The party wasn't due to finish for hours, which meant something must have happened. Upon her entry, she gained multiple stares, and found herself growing slightly scared. What was going on?

Before any guests approached her, her mother rushed over, gripping Cassia's arm hard enough to bruise. "Have you seen Lyra?" She asked desperately, her eyes intense.

Cassia jerked her arm free with a wince. "She's in her bedroom. I think she's upset or tired or something. What's going on?"

Before she even finished speaking, her mother rushed past her towards Lyra's bedroom. Looking over and seeing Lord Boreal oversee the guests' exit, she chose to follow her mother to seek answers. Speaking with Boreal was intimidating enough with her mother there, there was no way she would approach him alone,

When she reached Lyra's room, Cassia stopped dead still. The room was empty, and her mother was half-hanging out of the window, shrieking her assistant's name. She rushed over and pulled her back inside, and her mother immediately snapped out of her desperate state. "What did she say to you, Cassia?" She asked, and her tone was more serious than Cassia had every heard it before.

"I told you, she was upset. She dragged me in here speaking some nonsense about you being a Goblin or something-"

"Gobbler," her mother interrupted, her voice dark. "And why didn't you prevent her from leaving?"

"Prevent her from leaving? Mother, she's your assistant. Why on earth would I stop her? It's not like we keep prisoners at the apartment. Besides, she said she was going to have a nap or something and told me to leave."

With an unholy scream, her mother wrenched the door open again and stormed out, striding over to Lord Boreal. The other guests were all gone but he remained by the lift, his expression cold. "The girl?" He asked, and Cassia felt like crying. How was it that everybody seemed to know something she didn't? Why would Lord Boreal of all people care about a twelve year old girl?

"Organise a search," her mother ordered, and Cassia felt her blood run cold. She froze in the middle of the hallway, the pieces beginning to click into place.

Lyra was a twelve year old who her mother had a strange, vested interest in, and who had caught the attention of the Magisterium enough that her mother could command search parties to scour the country with the support of her often-political-rival, Lord Boreal.

"Lyra Belaqua," she mouthed, sounding out the name in her mouth. It felt bitter, and something inside of her snapped. "Lyra Belaqua."

"Cassia," her mother called, and she felt herself drawn back in to reality. "What are you doing just standing in the hall? Come and make yourself useful."

"Mother," she forced out, and saw her shoulders tense at the tone. "She's my sister, isn't she?"


	2. 2

"Mother," she forced out, and saw her shoulders tense at the tone. "She's my sister, isn't she?"

Any warmth that had existed in the room vanished, and Cassia was more than aware that provoking her mother like this was a bad idea. The day was having its toll on her, though, and it was all she could do not to stomp her foot like a tantruming toddler as she asked again. "Lyra, that is. Your _assistant_. She's my half-sister."

At her feet, Rio was pressed against her ankles, silently offering support while hiding from the golden monkey. Every so often, she could feel his head butt against her in his attempt to offer comfort.

"Where did you hear that?" Her mother snarled, angrier than Cassia had ever seen her. Despite this, for the first time, Cassia wasn't afraid of incurring her wrath. Instead, anger was beginning to flood her system, drowning out any traces of fear.

"So it's true."

"I asked you a question, Cassia," her mother bit out, but she could barely even hear her. Her mind was whirling at a million miles a minute, yet it remained fixed on one point: she had been lied to.

Clenching her fists, she looked her mother in the eye defiantly, pointedly ignoring the questions. There was no way she would give out any information before she got her own answers. "Why wouldn't you tell me?"

Tears filled Cassia's eyes at the thought of all that she'd missed, twelve entire years of sisterhood. She'd actually been in the presence of her sister, and still nobody had thought that maybe she would want to know her - or even that she had a right to be informed.

True to form, her mother still didn't seem at all inclined to provide any more information, sweeping past Lyra to grab a sheet of paper from a nearby cabinet. "I don't have time for this," she muttered, her tone venomous. "Make yourself useful and help me find the girl."

Of course. Even now when she'd figured out the truth, she still wasn't deemed important enough to be told anything. A funny, tight feeling spread through Cassia's chest, and she didn't know whether to scream or to laugh.

"'Find the girl?' Why do you want to find her? You abandoned her for twelve years already!"

Lyra had grown up at a College - the most ridiculous notion Cassia had heard all day, and the day had been a rather remarkable one. Surrounded either by adults or serving children, neither of which promoted the kind of childhood proper for Cassia's sister. In fact, wasn't Lyra's father some kind of Lord? Why on earth had her mother left her to be raised there?

"Watch yourself, Cassia," her mother warned as her golden monkey came to glare at Rio. "I'm not in the mood for one of your temper tantrums."

Cassia felt her face flush. Her mother was acting like her anger was childish, or undeserved. Finding Lyra was important, she could agree on that point, but how far could a twelve year old girl on foot go? This area of London wasn't exactly dangerous. Surely a minute could be spared for her questions.

"Temper tantrums? I have a sister! A twelve year old sister you didn't even tell me existed! I thought she was dead - that my father killed her years ago, and you want to call it a temper tantrum that I'm angry you left her to rot with a bunch of old men. It's hardly Lyra's fault you're a whore, mother, you needn't punish her for it."

A sharp crack rang out in the room, and Cassia found herself twisted around by the force of the slap. Hysteria bubbled up in her throat, and she almost choked on her laughter. Her mother had hit her. Her mother had abandoned her sister and hit her, and the damn golden monkey was just standing and watching when usually it was his job to discipline Cassia and Rio, and it wasn't at all funny but she couldn't stop laughing so she couldn't _breathe_, and-

In the back of her mind, Cassia knew that this was probably some kind of panic attack or shock or something. She needed a paper back or something to help her breathe normally again, but there was no way she was capable of finding one. Her head felt light and she slumped to sit against the wall, laughing all the harder at her mother's angry, confused expression.

Rio scrambled up onto her lap, his eyes wider than usual, and Cassia felt a stab of worry. She didn't want to upset him - though that was stupid, of course he was upset; _she_ was upset - but she couldn't stop the laughter coming out of her mouth even as tears welled up in her eyes. If she didn't calm down soon she would probably pass out. She'd never passed out before, and she kind of wondered what it felt like.

Pain flared up in her wrist, and Cassia felt herself snap out of it, uncomfortably focused on the bleeding scratch left by Rio's claws. He'd actually hurt her, _cut_ her. He'd never done that before, but the red smudge from her lower arm to her hand was evidence that had changed.

The satin of her dress rustled as she stood up, awkwardly loud in the otherwise silent room. Rio was in her arms, trembling, and her mother was just stood next to a sofa with a perplexed expression. Cassia got the impression that she wanted to say something - not apologise, her mother would never apologise - but nothing actually came out.

Keeping her mouth pressed shut to prevent herself from crying, Cassia slowly exited the room, breaking out into a run when she reached the corridor, out of her mother's eyeline. Lord Boreal's eyes burned into her back for a moment, and her hands fumbled with the key to her bedroom. She didn't want to see him, or her mother, or anyone at all for a year and a half.

She didn't even know if she wanted to see Lyra. The younger girl was her sister, but Cassia didn't really know her. Perhaps it would be better if she never saw her again, and life could get back to normal in time. Maybe it would be better if Lyra did come back and her mother could be happy and they would all be a family.

A pretty rubbish family that had a liar for a mother and a stranger for a child, but still a family.

The key finally turned in the lock, and Cassia tumbled into her room in a mess of blue satin and brown hair as she tugged her hair out of the uncomfortable braid it had been forced into. It would probably be the size of a small country when the braided curls turned to frizz overnight, and Cassia felt like an idiot for caring about that. What kind of vapid, self-centred egoist cared about their hair when they had a secret sister running around the streets alone?

For a moment, Cassia felt the insane urge to climb out of the window and search for Lyra herself. She had actually taken a step before reality set in and she realised that such an action would only result in more stress. There was no chance she could find Lyra by herself, and her mother would already have more qualified search parties. Besides, what would she say? 'Hello, you should come back because the woman you thought was a kidnapper is actually your mother, and we're sisters now despite the fact I only met you two hours ago. Yay!'

Somehow Cassia didn't think that would go down too well.

"You should get into your pyjamas," Rio commented, grooming himself lazily in an attempt to conceal his own shock.

Cassia hesitated, dithering by the foot of the bed. "I don't know if I can be bothered." All of her anxious, frantic energy had disappeared once she couldn't see her mother's face, and a wave of fatigue had replaced it. It wasn't even late, but she was more tired than she could ever remember feeling before.

"Then go to sleep," Rio ordered, abandoning his grooming to curl up in his regular spot on Cassia's right pillow. At some point in the night he'd end up on her stomach, but he always started off next to her head, where they could talk face to face. "Emotional outbursts are tiring. Also, if you're asleep then you won't have to talk to her if she comes in to check on you."

It was a tempting thought. Cassia bent down to undo the buckles on her heels, and dropped like a stone into the sea of blankets. There were at least five on the bed in preparation for her coming home, but not, she noted, her favourite. The purple wooden blanket she'd draped over herself constantly for half her life was missing. She'd always liked blankets, liked warmth. When she was younger, her mother had often found her leaning on a radiator under a blanket, no matter the season. Summer warmth meant nothing to her. Cassia wondered if Lyra liked heat too - probably not, since she wanted to travel North. What else did she not know about her sister that she should?

As she closed her eyes to drift off to sleep, tears slipped out and stained the pillow.

Not for the first time in her life, Cassia woke up to an empty apartment. She spent hours agonising over whether to leave her bedroom and face her mother, only to discover upon leaving that there was nobody to face. She was alone in the apartment.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Cassia grabbed a slice of toast for breakfast, unwilling to bother with cooking or a plate without her mother there to nag about crumbs. Hopefully she would be gone for a while so Cassia could think.

Her head had cleared up a bit overnight, with tiredness no longer clouding her mind, and she was reasonably confident in a couple of things: Lyra, stranger or no, was her sister, and that mattered; and her mother was an adulteress who had defiled the sanctity of both marriage and motherhood, and would surely be punished in time by the Authority, but she was still Cassia's mother, and she would forgive her eventually. She had to, really. How could she live with a mother who she reviled? It wasn't practical.

Perched on the counter, Rio's head perked up and he gazed intently at Cassia. "I have a question," he announced.

Cassia raised her head to return the stare, glad of the distraction. "Which is...?"

Flicking his tail nervously, his green eyes never once left her face as he answered. "Lyra left. I want to know why."

Cassia frowned. "You're right. I can't imagine she actually ran because she thought mother was some kind of criminal. It's likely an excuse for something else to justify it to herself."

"I don't think so," Rio mumbled, actually looking uncomfortable. Cassia stared at him incredulously. That cat was always far too confident for his own good, unless her mother's dæmon was around. "She was scared, Cassia. Really scared. She hid it well, but Pantalaimon was like a wild animal backed into a corner, ready to lash out from fear, not anger. And of your mother, too. I want to know why, really why."

"What are you trying to say, Rio?" Cassia asked slowly, struggling to accept his words. "You believe my mother is a child-snatcher?"

"No!" Rio cried out, and Cassia sighed in relief. The thought of her own dæmon believing such a ridiculous notion was horrifying. "But I do think she's hiding something from us, even now."

It was disturbing to think about, but Cassia couldn't help but feel like Rio was right. Until yesterday she would never have considered it, but her mother had hidden a sister - who knew what other secrets she may be keeping?

"Alright," she decided, feeling slightly sick at the idea of snooping. She'd never done anything like this before, never had any reason to. At school the other girls were more than willing to offer the secrets they learned to her freely, impressed by her status or age or position at the institute, and the other students were boys, and far more easily manipulated. At home, with her mother, there had never been anything she felt worth investigating. "She'll likely be out all day, looking for Lyra and avoiding me so she doesn't actually have to answer any questions. We'll have a look in her office to satisfy your curiosity."

"Our curiosity," Rio corrected smugly. "You wouldn't do it if you weren't curious too."

"Oh, shut up," Cassia retorted, but her eyes betrayed her lack of real annoyance. It was nice to regain a sense of normalcy, arguing with Rio.

Quickly finishing her toast, she brushed herself down as she stood up. As they walked towards her mother's office, both fell silent, a sense of foreboding washing over them. If they were caught, mother would be furious. If they found something strange, Cassia didn't even know what they would do.

"It's locked," Rio hissed, consistently craning his head to check that nobody was coming down the corridor. Cassia couldn't blame him. Nobody was allowed in mother's office. _Nobody_.

"Obviously," Cassia pointed out. "It's always locked."

That wasn't going to stop her. Even if her results hadn't impressed her mother, she had definitely learned a lot at school. One Saturday, a serving girl had shown her how to get into a locked room with nothing more than a couple of hairpins so they could grab a bite to eat once Cassia realised she'd missed breakfast. In her apartment, there was no shortage of that particular utensil.

"Keep a look out," Cassia instructed Rio, motioning for him to stay by the door while she went over to the desk. He wouldn't be able to actually see into the corridor given how big the office was, but his hearing was more than able to hear the lift moving. It had helped her hide something she didn't want her mother to see she'd been doing in time plenty of times as a child.

The desk was locked too, which Cassia would have thought was overkill after a locked door if she wasn't currently breaking in. That in itself wasn't suspicious, she reminded herself sternly, her mother was the most powerful woman in the Magisterium and had access to all kinds of top secret information. She was _not_ here to try and villainise her mother, just to see what she didn't know about her.

"Check the middle left drawer," Rio recommended. "She's left-handed and that's probably easiest access."

By that logic, Cassia's eyes wandered instead to the bottom right. From a seated position, that would be the hardest to reach. If she wanted to keep a secret, she would probably put it in the least convenient position. Almost reverently, she knelt by the desk, holding her breath as if it would help her concentrate. There was a click, and she pulled the drawer out in one smooth, slow motion.

Inside was not, like in a bad production, a set of loose papers. Cassia's mother was far too organised for that, and the information was all carefully divided into categories in one single folder, which Cassia pulled out cautiously, wary of some kind of disturbance which her mother would notice when next she came to do some work.

"It's heavy," she commented defensively when Rio shot her an exasperated look at the bottom side scraping against the walls of the drawer.

"What did you expect? She works for the Magisterium, she's hardly going to have tiny folders with the same amount of information that your Theology class covers in a week."

"Oh, will you stop going on about that folder? I was ill, and Eliot Farson let me fill it out later with things he'd written. Besides, nothing I missed was even on the exam."

Once the folder was safely settled on the carpet in front of her, Cassia took a moment to check the label. It wouldn't do to accidentally see information on somebody like Lord Boreal, who likely wouldn't take too well to her knowing more than she should.

"General Oblation Board," she murmured, tracing the letters lightly with her fingers. It had been hand-written by her mother in small, crisp letters, not put into a typewriter. Did that mean it was more or less important? Cassia wasn't sure. Less important to the official work or Magisterium side, perhaps, and more personal? If so, it was just what she was looking for. "I've never heard mother talking about it."

"When does she ever talk about her work?" Rio asked, flicking his tail impatiently. "Open it."

She obeyed carefully, dismayed to see pages of tiny letters and charts. Whatever scandal she'd been hoping to see wasn't as obvious as she'd expected, though she shouldn't have been surprised. It wasn't very likely that there would be a diary or any similar nonsense cluttering her mother's study. The most personal thing in it was a small picture of Cassia and her mother on a trip to Geneva when Cassia was five. Her uncle had taken the photograph, beaming ear to ear.

"It looks like some kind of experiment," Cassia commented slowly, after minutes of silence as she tried to decipher the information with no actual context. "There are names here, of the participants I presume, and it looks like these are tracking their vitals after whatever procedure they volunteered for. Judging by some of them, I'd guess it's some kind of neurological disease that they're looking for a cure for. Half of the participants are listed as being perfectly healthy, just catatonic. That sounds neurological to me."

Honestly, Cassia was slightly disappointed. This drawer clearly wasn't the secret she'd been hoping for - why would Lyra be frightened of details of a medical trial? Still, it was darkly fascinating to read through the results and see the horror of mental illnesses under the secure knowledge that she was unlikely to be particularly at risk. It gave her a similar feeling to reading the crime novels her mother didn't know about when she was safe in bed, far from any murderers or criminals.

Rio didn't seem as sure of her theory, though. "Why would she be involved in a clinical trial? She's not a medical scientist. Look for pictures or something more clear."

Cassia willingly obliged, having years of experience scouring school textbooks for the more interesting method of visual learning. She flipped through the pages quickly, waiting for a flash of colour to tell her she'd reached a picture, and stopped dead in horror.

"Rio," she said slowly, stopping on one page with growing dread. "It's more of a blueprint than a picture, but I'd quite like you to tell me it's not what I think it is."

He leaped over, peering at the folder from the opposite side, and froze. "That's a person," he said finally, disgust coating his tone.

"Yes," Cassia confirmed.

"And a dæmon," he continued, manoeuvring around the folder to see it from her angle.

"Yes."

"And then... that's a person again. But the dæmon's gone."

"I think," Cassia whispered, her voice stuck in her throat. "I think that it might be a bit worse than that. The dimensions of the... of the _cage_ are too small to fit a fully grown person. I think that person is a child, Rio."

She clutched his fur desperately, unable to tear her eyes from the page but unwilling to let herself be even minutely unsure of his presence. The thought of not having Rio simply didn't bear thinking about.

"I think this is a design to cut a child's dæmon away."

The words hung in the air like knives, as if a single movement would bring them crashing down and force Cassia to face something she didn't really want to think about. Time stood still as she sat, immobile on the floor, one hand clenched in Rio's fur, the other lying stiffly on a diagram of a rat. Few adults had rat dæmons. They were most commonly found as the preferred form of poverty-stricken children, street rats. It was a fairly popular joke, but Cassia felt sick thinking about it.

There was no clock in her mother's office. Cassia didn't know how long she'd sat there, barely daring to breathe, but it had been long enough for her knees to lock and her legs go numb, causing her to almost lose her balance as a surge of emotion hit her and she flung her head forwards again to flip back through the pages to a list of names.

"There," she murmured, her feverish movements stopping once her finger was pointed at one name in a list of hundreds.

Rio stiffened as he took in the name. "Child-snatchers," he murmured, too shocked to bother mimicking as he would usually do when repeating somebody else's words. "They took Roger."

Roger Parslow. No symptoms, which could only be a good thing. He hadn't been butchered yet. Lyra had been right, though, he was in danger, because the measurements listed next to his name showed he was beginning to attract just a tiny little bit of Dust. Cassia was no expert, but she was fairly certain that in an experiment designed for destroying children, those past the point of maturity would be useless stock. Lyra's little friend was probably fairly high up on their rota.

'Their.' She scoffed at her own thought. It sounded so distant. It was her mother. Her mother was the mad scientist ripping little children apart. There was no denying her personal claim to this monstrosity anymore, not as she stared at the name of a little boy from Jordan who her sister loved and her mother wanted to destroy.

Honestly, she was rather surprised she wasn't crying. She cried a lot. Anything from a mildly sad or extremely happy scene in a book or play, to a charity advertisement could set her off usually, and this bombshell seemed a little above that pay grade. Judging by her past waterworks, by all rights she should be curled up in a ball on the floor sobbing by now.

Instead, a strange detachment washed over her as she stared at the name of her sister's little friend. She knew more about him than she knew about Lyra.

If there was one thing Cassia Coulter knew how to do well, it was revise. She'd been doing it her entire life to learn what she needed to know: school subjects, the names of guests at her mother's inane parties; the designers it was appropriate for her to buy from; and so forth.

A list of names? Easy. If her mother was experimenting on children, it wouldn't be the ones people would notice were missing. No children of any members of high society had been reported missing. Somebody needed to remember these children, sacrifices of a barbaric alter.

The Magisterium banned _dissection_. Human experimentation, ripping apart the soul gifted to humanity by the Almighty himself which separated them from common beasts - it was sacrilege. How could her mother possibly justify it to herself?

Maybe she was just a monster. She wouldn't be the first one in Cassia's family line.

"She's coming," Rio hissed, breaking the silence abruptly and jumping up. "What do you want to do?"

Cassia didn't bother replying. Instead, she strode out of the office and down the corridor, waiting by the lift for the doors to open. The office was left wide open behind her, paper strewn everywhere. What was the point in hiding her revelation? Her mother would know soon enough anyway.

The lift opened, and Cassia's mother looked slightly startled to see her waiting. Ever composed, though, she immediately started critiquing, apparently determined to act like nothing had happened the day before and lying to Cassia for twelve years was still a secret. The act was marred slightly by the glasses of wine Cassia had seen on the balcony, highlighting that she wasn't quite as unbothered as she wanted to be perceived to be. "Cassia, darling, you really must do something about your hair. It's horrifying. And how many times must I tell you that you can't stay in pyjamas all day even if you do stay in the apartment; it's unhygienic and only encourages slovenly attitudes."

She hadn't actually worn pyjamas all day. The crumpled satin dress she's woken up in had been discarded as she procrastinated leaving her bedroom, replaced by something more comfortable. It was absurd to be upset over a minor comment when she'd uncovered real horrors about her mother, but she was.

"Roger Parslow," she listed, staring her mother in the eye to see her face pale. "Lydia Keating, Emily Brookes, Alan Burton, Jemimah Parker-"

"What is this?" Her mother asked calmly, though she was visibly shaken. "Are these friends of yours?"

"I've never met any of them," Cassia said. "They're missing children. I think you have, though. Tell me, has Jemimah recovered her ability to speak yet? Alan's information is dated after hers, yet he can already say the name of the dæmon stolen from him. I suppose I'm just curious to see how she turns out. I had a doll called Jemimah once."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," her mother claimed, stepping out of the lift but making no effort to move any further.

"No? That's odd, considering your office is full of information about it."

The tone shifted in an instant, her mother's faux-concerned expression vanishing, replaced by cold anger. "And what would you know of my office?"

"See, I was wondering," Cassia continued, unperturbed by the interruption. "Just why you chose to take Lyra now. It's been years. And then I thought, well, exactly - it's been years. Twelve, nearly thirteen, which means that Pan is going to settle soon. Tell me, mother, when exactly were you planning on taking my sister North?"

Her mother seemed stunned for a moment, her mouth falling open, then snapping shut when her eyes hardened. "You are a child," she declared, and Cassia felt like crying again because how was _she_ the one in the wrong here? Clearly, Rio agreed, as his fur bristled indignantly. "An arrogant, presumptious child who cannot possibly comprehend the connotations of her words and actions. How dare you imply I would endanger my own child? How dare you loot through my personal belongings?"

"How dare you massacre innocent children?" Cassia interrupted, mimicking the tone of her mother. She was through with blindly following her mother. All her life, she'd been sure she could be a decent person, despite her father, because her mother raised her. Now, she was certain that had doomed her all the more. "How dare you callously destroy Authority-given souls?"

Her mother laughed, and it sent chills down Cassia's spine. The sweet laugh she used around children, the flirtatious laugh she used around men - both sounded incredibly fake to Cassia's ears as she listened to this new laugh, the true laugh of her mother, of bitterness and power and loathing. By her side, Rio cringed at the noise, his back arching high into the air.

"What do you know of the Authority? I'm saving those children from an eternity of punishment. History will thank them for their sacrifice."

"History will pity them!" The scream tore its way out of Cassia's throat, enraged as she was by her mother's arrogance. "And it'll hate you, who subverted the natural order to commit such atrocities! You're not a saviour, mother. If you were, you wouldn't operate in such secrecy. You're killing them!"

"Go to your room," her mother ordered, and Cassia let out a strangled half-scream. She was still being treated like a child, even as she confronted her mother for _human experimentation_. "We will discuss this later, when you are capable of controlling your temper and acting like an adult."

The chances of that were slim. There was no way Cassia could ever see this how her mother would want her to. Still, she recognised the command in her mother's voice and the way the monkey tensed, ready to act, and decided not to push it. She could barely stand to look at her mother's face for much longer anyway, so she stalked to her room, brimming with rage.

Dark half-circles decorated her palms where her clenched fists meant nails dig in, but rather than causing her to calm, the pain soothed her anger, honed it. Her mother would never stop anything just because Cassia asked her to, the thought was preposterous. She would have to do something, obviously, but it would have to be over her mother's head.

She had to go to the Magisterium. They couldn't have any knowledge of this, surely. The representatives of the Authority couldn't support the atrocities her mother was committing, and they had the power to stop them. Intimidating as entering a Magisterium building may be, it was the best way to prevent the unnatural torture of hundreds of children.

"You'll have to get changed," Rio suggested, and Cassia was obliged to sweep him into a hug because of course he knew what she needed to do, he was the only thing in the world that took the time to understand her.

"What do I even wear to the Magisterium?" She asked, staring at the wardrobe in trepidation. "If I were a man, it would be easy, but women aren't too common over there. If I wear something stupid for the occasion, they'll never take me seriously."

"They might not anyway," remarked Rio, and Cassia's head snapped in his direction. He sighed. "Be realistic, Cassia. You're a sixteen year old girl, and your mother is one of the most powerful women in Brytain. There's a chance they won't believe you."

"Are you saying I shouldn't even bother?" Cassia asked despairingly. This was her only plan. There were no other real options.

"Of course not. Just... don't get your hopes up. And think of somewhere we can go if it doesn't work out. I don't think she'll be too happy with us if we come back here."

Up until that point, Cassia had thought she had a very rich life. She had a good family, friends from good families, and Rio. Now, posed with the question of hiding from her mother, she realised that wasn't the case. Her family were monsters, her friends were the children of her mother's friends, and Rio was just as helpless as she was. They had no skills to survive on the streets, and no acquaintances of their own to take them in in secret.

Shaking her head to dispel any doubts, Cassia made up her mind. She wasn't going to save anybody by herself, but somebody had to be able to do something. All they needed was the knowledge that there was a problem. She had an obligation to provide that, at least. "We'll figure that out later. We can't just do nothing."

"Alright then," Rio said. "Wear the button-up green tea dress. It makes you look at least fifteen, rather than twelve."

"I do not look twelve," Cassis hissed, but put the dress on. It was formal enough to enter an official building without trying too hard, or looking like a child playing dress-up. She couldn't even imagine what she'd look like if she tried to dress like her mother did, wearing silk blazers and pencil skirts. They'd probably laugh her out of the building.

Preparing herself seemed like it took forever, especially as she heard her mother bustling around the apartment, but it was necessary. The Magisterium wouldn't give her the time of day if she didn't look respectable. While she worked solutions into her hair to ease the frizz and applied minimal makeup, she felt nausea build in the pit of her stomach the longer she was there. Nothing in the world would possibly beat the feeling of getting out of that apartment.

Eventually, she grabbed a coat and headed to the lift, Rio furtively following. She was about to unlock the lift when it was snatched out of her hand by her mother's dæmon. Cassia's back straightened as realisation hit her. How had she not recognised that she wouldn't be allowed to leave? Her mother would never let her get in the way.

"You look nice," her mother said mockingly. "Very professional. Where were you planning on going? Did you get a job without telling me?"

"Actually, I was planning on following in your footsteps," Cassia taunted, too tired and grumpy and angry to bother filtering her responses to her mother. They both knew what she had been planning to do, there was no point coming up with a feasible lie, and she was in an antagonistic mood. "I wasn't sure where it is, exactly, but I'm sure you can tell me. It's your competition, after all: the nearest brothel."

"Do not push me, Cassia," her mother warned, but Cassia wasn't done.

"It's what you raised me for, isn't it? A more high-class prostitute, perhaps, but effectively the same concept. I was born to be married to the highest bidder to further your political aspirations. It was never about me. Maybe I'll skip a few steps and go straight to the point outside of the burden of marriage. You certainly don't have any respect for it, so why should I?"

"Cassia, maybe you should stop," Rio whispered, watching her mother intensely. Her expression was carefully controlled, but rage was building up behind it.

"Or maybe I should follow your other example," Cassia continued, ignoring the warning. She'd held her tongue for years, she'd probably implode if she didn't speak her mind now of all times. She wanted to hurt her mother like she'd hurt so many others. "Like your domestic sins weren't enough, you had to top whoring with torture! I'm curious, are you intentionally reaching for the most sins committed, or does it just come naturally?"

"Enough!" Her mother snapped, and this time Cassia was forced to obey because the golden monkey finally took action, pinning Rio to the ground. Startled, Cassia fell too, almost hitting her head. "I've been more than generous, letting you have your tantrums because I can understand that the last few days have been emotionally taxing. But I will not be disrespected like this in my own home. You will pull yourself together and act like the obedient child I raised from now on."

Though she couldn't move much, Cassia was more than capable of making her answer to that instruction. Mustering up as much saliva as possible, she attempted to spit on her mother's feet - she had never done it before, and it didn't go far, but the gesture was clearly understandable.

Her mother's face contorted in rage, and she flicked her wrist forward in what was clearly a signal to her dæmon because all of a sudden Cassia couldn't breathe and she could see Rio thrashing on the floor underneath the grip of the golden monkey. Every instinct in her body wanted to help him, but she couldn't do more than just stare helplessly as she clawed desperately at her throat searching for breath.

The last thing she saw was her mother's heeled pumps walking in her direction before she passed out.

She woke up with a pounding headache in her mother's office. Trying to stand was useless; her wrists were tied securely to the desk. Why did her mother even have rope? Cassia wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.

More pressingly, Rio was nowhere to be seen. She couldn't even feel the agony which would imply he was further than a few metres from her. Even when she whispered his name, there was no response. She couldn't feel him.

Terror gripped her heart, and she hissed for him again, on the verge of hysteria. How could he be gone? She didn't have any of the symptoms of her mother's experiments - she could think and move and speak for herself so where was Rio? He'd never left her before. He had always been the one constant in her life.

The light switch flipped on, and Cassia's fear only grew at the sight of her mother. "Where's Rio?" She demanded before her mother could so much as blink. "You can't take him from me, I'm not a child, he's settled. Please, please, he's mine, you can't take him from me-"

Cassia was fairly certain she'd never felt this distraught before. Rio was everything. He was a part of her, closer than her arm or leg. Not having him around was worse than an amputation, it was as if her heart or her brain or her liver had been ripped out with nothing to replace it. She couldn't have been cut. She just couldn't.

"Don't be ridiculous, adults can undergo intercision too," her mother reprimanded, gazing down imperiously. "But, no, Doriophan is quite safe for now. I was simply sick of his constant mewling, so I quietened him."

Rio was alive. Probably not safe, as her mother had said, but alive. Cassia's whole body slumped in relief, the tear tracks on her face drying without fresh supply. Whatever her mother had done so she couldn't feel him, her words implied it wasn't permanent. She still had him with her.

"Of course, that can change," her mother said, watching Cassia carefully for a reaction. "I find the products of adult intercision rather unintelligent conversation, but they can obey simple instructions. I expect as much from you."

"Please, please, I'll do anything," Cassia rambled. "I'll be good, I swear, just don't hurt Rio."

A tight smile stretched across her mother's face, and she walked over to bring Cassia into a hug. Despite the ropes keeping her arms near the desk, Cassia allowed herself to sink into the embrace, relief flooding her system. Whatever her mother had done, she had to protect Rio. Not having him would be worse than dying.

"There you are," her mother crooned, and despite her better instincts Cassia felt it soothe her. Sixteen years of motherhood were hard to forget immediately, even with her newfound knowledge. After the trauma of the day, comfort from her mother was what she craved. "Nobody will touch him. He'll wake up soon, and the two of you will act appropriately."

"I promise," swore Cassia, feeling the oath take root inside of her. Her mother's threat to Rio wouldn't end, protection would last only as long as she behaved. Blood wouldn't save her from her mother's obsessive desire to control everything in her life - she'd rather Cassia be a half-person than lose her hold over her. "I'm sorry, mother."

"Everything's alright," her mother shushed her, rocking back and forth. The golden monkey was nowhere to be seen, and Cassia repressed a shudder. How could her mother bear it? "We'll all be together soon. I have agents looking for Lyra, and we'll all be a family."

Cassia sincerely hoped she never saw Lyra again, for the girl's own sake. Her sister had escaped once, but if her mother ever got her into her clutches she'd be doomed to the same life of servitude and horror as Cassia. She said nothing of this to her mother, though, all too aware of an image of Rio lying helpless and asleep in a box somewhere nearby, completely subject to her mother's whims.

Wiping the tear stains from Cassia's cheeks, her mother cut the ropes away and retrieved Rio's prone form, smiling as Cassia hugged him to her chest tightly. "Now get a good night's sleep," she instructed, sounding less motherly and more like a commanding officer. "We head North tomorrow."

And Cassia would have to watch in support as children were destroyed was left unsaid, hanging in the air. Feeling the heat of Rio's body curled into her, she just nodded her head.

She was beaten.

Her mother won.

And children would die.


	3. 3

It was strange, after her mother's threat. Everything carried on so normally, yet felt so different. The next few days were a blur of packing and preparing - her mother had a tailor come over to prepare her five new coats, as well as an entire wardrobe more suited to the cold air of the North. None of it was too practical, though, probably for the same reason that she hadn't been able to go to an actual shop: there would be no chance of running away. In between there were moments of normalcy, when her mother made coffee and hot chocolate and it was almost easy to forget her crimes; and moments of quiet terror after something reminded Cassia of the truth of the situation; and even moments of quiet peace when her mother went out to search for Lyra, who had supposedly been seen somewhere.

(Cassia pretended not to notice the depletion of the wine in the apartment, and hid in her room when there was another failed excursion. Rio's safety wasn't worth risking just for a smug remark, and she wasn't entirely sure she would be able to hold one in if she was in the room with a woman who balanced herself on ledges for her own daughter, but willingly massacred the children of others. Besides, a drunken mother was dangerous to be around when even slightly upset.)

It was almost a relief to step the first foot on a Zeppelin headed North. The apartment had become the scapegoat for all of her negative emotion to be projected onto, and Cassia wasn't certain she could have handled even another second stick inside it.

She hadn't been allowed to go back to school. That had been harder than she thought. Edward Kircher has written to her three times to wish her health would improve. Apparently he thought she was ill, and Cassia had a fairly good idea where he had received the idea. It upset her more than she would have thought.

It was a private zeppelin, of course, which Cassia was grateful for. Glad as she was to be out of the apartment, she couldn't shake the reminder that their destination was a slaughterhouse for children. It would be horrific to see other people, laughing and smiling as though nothing were wrong. To them it wouldn't be.

Ignorance is bliss. Cassia would rather be poorly informed and happy than a genius who can't bear to face the day, if she had the choice.

What was so wrong with just seeking happiness? Her mother always talked about seeking greatness and a legacy and so forth, but if she was honest with herself, Cassia was fairly certain that her ideal position in life would be in a nice house with a kind husband and a few children to care for unconditionally, who would never be abandoned like Lyra had been. She'd leave the world-changing to people like her mother and sister, since Lyra had clearly had big aspirations despite having only spoken to Cassia for a few moments. On second thought, maybe Lyra would be a better choice than her mother. Cassia wasn't so sure her mother's new world would be all too pleasant.

Anyway, she wasn't equipped to be a hero. She wasn't strong or brave or anything beyond average - she had a pretty face and was good at school, but she cried at heights and spiders and sat docile on a zeppelin with a mass-murderer doing absolutely nothing to prevent heresy because she was scared. Somehow, she doubted that would fill the pages of a book. Maybe that was why her mother had always seemed so disappointed with her; she had wanted a child more like Lyra, adventurous and stubborn. If that was the case, she had probably made a mistake in raising Cassia and abandoning Lyra.

And it wasn't like she _could_ do anything anyway, even if she was brave enough. Her mother had always kept her on a fairly tight lead, but ever since the day of the party she'd been a prisoner in all but name. There was no way to communicate with people, no way to leave, no way to save anyone. All she could do was sit in silence and protect Rio.

He counted too. Maybe one day people would judge her if they read about this chapter of history, for not protecting the countless dæmons who were cut, but Rio counted too. Why did she have to be self-sacrificial? Why was she the one who had to help, just because she happened to stumble upon some knowledge? She wasn't doing nothing. She was saving one dæmon, one soul. The fact that it was Rio was irrelevant to that fact - he was the only one she could do anything to protect, and, honestly, the one who meant most to her.

Anybody else would choose the same.

...Most people, at least.

...But the ones who wouldn't would be hard-pressed to save anyone if they couldn't help themselves. Judging by the results Cassia had read in her mother's office, the mutilated children were in little state to do more than have functioning organs, and they were the ones who survived.

It wasn't her problem.

So why did she feel so sick?

"You're quiet," her mother commented, fixing her eyes on Cassia with a soft tone to disguise the hidden warning. Showing her discontent with the project once they reached the station would not be tolerated.

Her fingers tightened around Rio's paw instinctively. "I was just thinking about school," she replied, the excuse coming to her lips before she had time to think of an excuse which didn't remind her mother that Cassia was under house-arrest. "That is to say, I was wondering if I could write to my friends. I've received lots of letters from them, and I'm afraid they'll think I'm ignoring them."

"Of course you may write to your friends," her mother smiled. "Just give anything you want to send to me and I'll pass it on for you."

Which meant that everything would be censored, obviously. Still, even with doubt that anything would genuinely make it past her mother, Cassia still felt relieved at having the ability to contact people. She'd never not been able to talk to people before, and dropping off the map just felt wrong.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. Perhaps it was wrong of her to be grateful for such a small thing, but she was. Besides, being on her best behavior included pleases and thank yous.

There was a short silence, and then... "Oh, you're just going to love it in the North, sweetheart. The snow is so picturesque and immense, you just feel like you're the only person in a world of nothingness for you to conquer. It's empowering. And once you see my work, I'm quite sure you'll begin to understand the good we're working towards. I know you're still a little upset, but if you just trust me for a while, I assure you that it'll all be worth it."

Cassia's teeth clenched. She wasn't interested in conquering or exploring or power, and her mother's constant descriptions of the North were doing nothing to change that fact. And she was fairly certain she would never, ever approve of her mother's work, let alone actively support it. "I'm sure I can leave the world-conquering to you," she sniped, unable to resist a small declaration of her own identity, not just her mother 2.0. "And I suppose we'll see about your work. Perhaps you're correct."

"I know I am."

"Well, then, there's no need to worry about it, is there?"

Silence descended upon the conversation again, and Cassia regretted not bringing a book. In her mind's eye she could practically see her copy of Herodotus' Histories sitting on her bedside table where she'd left it. The idea was that she didn't want to taint it by associating it with her mother's project in her mind, but the journey felt longer than she'd imagined. She'd never really had to travel far before, and even the comfort of the private zeppelin had started wearing thin very quickly.

Her mother had always hated her interest in ancient history, too, which would have only increased Cassia's satisfaction in reading it on the way. Theology had always been more her mother's interest, but while Cassia was fully devoted to the will of the Authority, studying monotheistic religion and ethics and the like had never really gripped her. She much preferred the ancient world, with its outlandish traditions and belief systems which made studying it an escape, and yet so many links to the modern world she knew as the foundations for civilised societies were created. It was far more fascinating than reading an old tome with a few philosophies in it - really, could theology not really just be summed up to 'be kind' and 'serve the Authority'. Everything else felt excessive.

Case in point: Bolvangr. The Station. The location for her mother's twisted experiments, which apparently were based in theology. According to her mother, Dust was a manifestation of Sin, and needed to be cleansed.

Cassia wasn't so sure. Children were more than capable of sinning, so why should they have so little Dust? Besides, the Authority wouldn't be so cruel as to doom humanity to sin without giving them a chance to be good; it was the entire point of the gospel.

Sighing in boredom, Cassia abruptly stood up, aware of her mother's eyes on her. Rio stayed in her arms, where he'd been for the entirety of the journey so far. He'd always been rather affectionate but ever since her mother's threat it had become rare for him to stray even far enough that they weren't physically touching.

She wandered over to the other side of the Zeppelin, surveying the selections of novels. It was a private hire, and had a range of simple activities for clients: children's toys, books, puzzles. Her eyes drifted on instinct to a book she'd read as a child about a princess in a tower, guarded by a woman masquerading as her mother. The situations weren't exactly the same, but there was enough similarity for it to comfort Cassia when reading about the freedom the princess found at the end, and the defeat of the evil witch. The thought made her smile, and even Rio looked somewhat soothed.

"You're not a captive," her mother remarked when she sat back down, book in hand. The illustrations were clear in highlighting exactly what reading choice she'd made, and her mother was more than aware of the story - she'd wanted to be read it every night for nearly a year and a half when she was younger. "Don't be melodramatic. It's more than within my rights as your mother to discipline you for your disrespect."

"I know that," Cassia replied innocently. "I just like the story. It reminds me of the happier days of being eight and only having to worry about how close I was to the person who was 'it'."

A small smile flit across her mother's face. "Honestly, Cassia, you speak so strangely sometimes. Sixteen is far too young to be reminiscing about better times. When I was your age, I..."

Cassia had heard this many time. When her mother was sixteen, she'd had a portrait taken of her and met her father and attended prestigious events every night. By the time she was seventeen she'd been invited to the palace twice and a prince had offered to buy her flowers, but she was betrothed to her father.

Not that fidelity had been one of her priorities for long, clearly.

The thought immediately made her thoughts stray again to Lyra. It was strange, she'd spent sixteen years never thinking of her and yet now she couldn't go more than a day without something reminding her. Most likely it was because she didn't know where she was, if she was safe. Still, Cassia hoped more than anything to never see her again. Hopefully Lyra had the sense to flee as far away as she could, somewhere nobody had ever heard of their mother.

A short beep pulled her attention back to reality, signifying that they were about to descend because they were at their destination. Dread pooled in the pit of Cassia's stomach, twisting her insides into a horrific mess of terror. It was easy to ignore where they were going reading children's stories on the zeppelin. It was less easy now.

She stood up, carefully putting on the fur jacket her mother had bought. She'd never worn fur before, but the North was cold enough that her entire ensemble for the day had elements of it, including, most importantly, a small fur shoulder bag. When her mother had been organising new outfits, Cassia had been happy to stand back and allow her mother to dictate the styles, but she did insist on one thing: every outfit had a matching shoulder bag.

Her mother hadn't asked why, but Cassia was fairly sure she knew the reason. In the North, when surrounded by the monsters who cut dæmons away, there was no chance she would let Rio walk on the ground, within easy reach of their dæmons to immobilise them. Cassia held the bag open silently and Rio jumped in straight away, curling up inside as close to Cassia as he could get. She held the strap securely, fingers clenching around the leather hard enough to leave a mark on her skin.

"Is Doriophan feeling particularly tired today?" Her mother asked condescendingly, but Cassia didn't look at her, pretending to busy herself with putting on her gloves. She didn't have a hat; they didn't suit her.

"You know how exhausting long journeys can be, mother."

A slender hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, bringing her face to face with her mother's cold eyes. "This is your final warning. When you meet my colleagues, you will be perfectly cordial, polite and charming. Feel free to think whatever you desire in the privacy of our suite, but there will be no attempts to show me up or sabotage my work. Understood?"

Cassia just nodded, unable to do much more. She'd never seen her mother look so vicious, even when she'd confronted her, and Rio had gone frozen with fear in her bag. Fortunately that sufficed for her mother, who simply smiled and went over to the doorway, waiting for it to open. Feeling like a toddler taking her first, shaky steps, Cassia followed.

She could do this. She could look at the faces of innocent children and their murderers without showing disgust or pity. She had to. Rio's heartbeat was going crazy, she could feel it through the thin fabric.

As the door descended, a rush of cold air hit Cassia like a slap to the face, almost knocking her off her feet. It took her a second to notice that her mother had already set off, the golden monkey at her side as an equal for the first time Cassia could ever remember. Not wanting to look like a fool, she quickly set off, making no attempt to catch up with her mother.

Snow crunched under her boots, and it was pretty enough to distract her whenever she looked down. When she looked up to see which way she was going, though, she caught glimpses of faces in the window, looking at her mother with awe and Cassia with curiosity. Rio poked his head out of the bag for a moment to lick her hand comfortingly, and some of the curiosity lessened. She'd personally have been more horrified if she couldn't see someone's dæmon, but they were deluded by ignorance, poor things.

Her mother drew to a stop in front of a pair of who Cassia supposed were scientists lined up in waiting. Her hand flew up to quiet the woman, who had clearly been about to speak, only coming down when Cassia reached them. Like the children, the adults in the facility looked fairly curious about her presence, which quickly turned into grudging respect with a hint of fear at her mother's introduction.

"I'd like you all to meet my daughter, Cassia, who will be joining me on my visit this time. I'm sure you can all find it within yourselves to treat her as you do me. If she has any questions, I expect you to answer them, and don't limit them because of her age. She's a bright child and is more than capable of understanding the science behind our project."

The science, yes; the morality, no, Cassia thought bitterly as she surveyed the small group, but she forced a charming smile on her face as her mother turned to look at her expectantly. "It's a pleasure to meet you all, she said as sweetly as she could manage, looking for all the world like a dutiful daughter. "Mother, may I retreat for a rest. We departed rather early this morning."

Her mother looked doubtful for a moment, but her face quickly smoothed out into indifference, clearly deciding that there was no damage Cassia could do with absolutely no knowledge of the layout or security of the facility, and that her presence when analysing the work done since her last visit would likely be more of a hindrance. She jerked her head at a trembling male scientist, who almost fell over himself to step forward.

"Escort Cassia to my suite, and return at once," she ordered him, watching his exuberant head nods. "I imagine you'll be able to find us in the surgery. Go."

As Cassia followed the man, her mother led the group in the opposite direction, for which Cassia was grateful. Associating her mother with this place, even after days of knowing about her work, was still odd. This stranger was easier to blame.

The corridors were exceptionally dull, consisting of plain grey walls, but Cassia was relieved enough that they were empty that she didn't really care. If she had to walk among the children she was certain her poker face would disappear. To distract herself, she turned her attention to her guide, who was walking along a few steps ahead, making no effort at conversation.

"How long have you worked here?" She asked with a blithe tone, amusing herself at the way his shoulders tended. There was an obvious internal debate inside him as to whether to answer or not - her mother's instructions versus his own dislike of children. Not that Cassia was as young as she looked, but if it made residents of the facility uncomfortable she was sorely tempted to play it up as much as possible.

Eventually his fear of her mother won out. "Eight months."

"And what's your job?"

Again, he hesitated, but gave a short reply. "I'm an engineer."

Cassia wasn't stupid, she knew that was a simplified explanation. Her mother wouldn't have had him in the welcome party if he wasn't of some import, but she really didn't care enough to mention it.

"So I suppose you build the cutting machine."

He jerked slightly, surprised that she knew what the facility was for, though Cassia didn't know why. Her mother had already implied she was aware.

"That's one way of putting it," he replied, and stopped outside a metal door to type in a short code. "Here's your mother's suite. The password is currently 0-0-0-0 in preparation for her arrival, but one of you should change it to something more secure."

His job done, he marched away, intent on getting away from her. Cassia wasn't really surprised. Surely nobody who worked here could actually like anyone under the age of eighteen, or they'd be unable to live with themselves.

Left alone for the first time in ages, Cassia wandered slowly into the suite, getting herself acquainted with the surroundings. No surprise, the grandeur contrasted greatly with the outside decor, everything embellished an embroidered, just like at home. Once she was secure that the suite itself felt safe enough, she stooped down to let Rio out of the bag and sat cross-legged on the plush carpeted floor of the room she was planning on claiming, the door shut behind her.

"I don't like it in there," Rio complained immediately, stretching himself out and licking his paws. "It's stuffy, and you let the bag swing too much."

"Would you rather walk?" Cassia asked sarcastically. "Right next to mother's monkey, and the Tartar's dogs and who knows what kind of dæmons the scientists have?"

He flinched, craning his neck to lick at a spot on his leg which their mother's dæmon was fond of grabbing to hold him in place when they tried to flee from discipline. "Point taken," he muttered. "But I still don't like it."

"Hopefully we won't need to spend much time out there, and you can walk around freely in here," Cassia mused, softly stroking Rio's chin as he flicked his tail at the attention. "I can't imagine mother would want be to be hanging around any of the machines."

"I doubt it," said Rio miserably. "You know how much she likes showing us off like a prize pony. I bet we'll have to follow her around and smile and nod all day."

Having no energy to think of a positive spin for that, Cassia just lay down, letting Rio come and sit on her chest, his paws on her cheek. The carpet was comfortable enough, and the bed just seemed wrong, somehow. That she had a fancy accommodation prepared for her while tens of children had bunkers while they waited for mutilation.

She didn't know how long she lay there silently, just staring at the plain while ceiling and thinking. She didn't fall asleep, she knew that much, but time seemed to stretch out into eternity while she lay there, helpless to do anything but lie there and endure it in the kind of disassociated state only usually felt in the brief moment when you wake up, before reality sets in.

At least she wasn't alone. Rio's weight grounded her, the ever constant presence never wavering. She'd never been apart from him from the second she was born and a shimmering golden wisp of something she couldn't name appeared out of the air and turned into him. Her father's dæmon, Aleximona, had named him Doriophan, but to Cassia he'd always been Rio. Three letters easy for an infant to say, much more intimate than the full pronunciation her mother had always insisted on using. Her father once told her that when she was born, her mother's dæmon cried and tried to cradle Rio in the form of a small wolf cub, but all he wanted to do was get to her crying form to comfort her.

There was no bond in the world like that between a human and a dæmon. Her mother didn't understand that, had never felt it. The golden monkey was always so distant in a way Cassia couldn't comprehend being with Rio. Whatever the reason for that was, it was definitely the cause of her callous project. If she felt even a fraction of what Cassia felt for Rio, she would never ever consider cutting a dæmon away.

Intercision, she called it. So clinical, like a hospital procedure or operation to fix a broken lung or bone. She was cutting _souls_ in half, and she called it intercision.

"Cassia, darling, are you in here?"

Her mother was back then. Cassia got up with a groan, smoothing out her hair and taking a sniff of the lavender smelling salt bag she'd brought for stress. Somehow she doubted aromatherapy would be strong enough to deal with her situation but every little had to count.

"Come on, I want to show you the cafeteria before I go to a meeting so you can get yourself something to eat."

Rio dutifully jumped back up onto her bag, though not without a disdainful sniff, and Cassia slung it over her shoulder as she wiped away the traces of mascara around her eyes. When she exited the room, her mother was waiting impatiently, walking away as soon as she saw Cassia with the clear expectation that she was to follow.

"How are you settling in? I see you chose a room," her mother commented, taking a moment to slow enough for Cassia to catch up so that she could fix a stray piece of hair as they walked.

"The apartment is nice," Cassia replied, the one truthful positive she could come up with. Honestly, the rest of the station that she had seen so far was just depressing: untalkative adults and drab decor.

"Good. Unpack after dinner, don't leave it until tomorrow or your clothes will crease and get rumpled, and I don't have time to help you iron. I'm going to be swamped with work while I'm here; honestly, it seems as though everything falls apart the second I leave. I doubt I'll even be back in the apartment until extremely late, so you'll have to go to bed without saying goodnight. You'll eat with the children since I'm busy tonight, and I expect you to be on your best behavior. I've found that young children are rather drawn to those around your age group - teenagers, that is. I have every expectation that a few of them will approach you, and if they do, you are to be friendly and extol the praises of the Station. Am I clear?"

Cassia felt like throwing up, and she was unsure as to how much dinner she would stomach, but she was demure as ever when she acknowledged her mother's orders. Rio's weight in her bag was more than enough to ensure that. "Crystal."

"Good."

They pulled to a stop in front of a double set of metal doors, and Cassia could hear muted chatter coming from inside. There was no goodbye; her mother just kissed her on the cheek and walked away while a woman in a blue dress opened the door for Cassia to enter.

Conversation didn't stop when Cassia walked in, but there were definitely eyes on her as she walked over to the food counter and picked up a plate. She couldn't carry a tray and keep the bag with Rio in it steady at the same time, so she ignored the bowl of dessert and cups of water in favour of just the plate of chicken and mash. There were sinks for her to get something to drink back in the apartment, she was sure.

Once she'd picked the food up, she hesitated. What was she supposed to do now? After a moment of dithering, she slowly turned to face the rows of tables, all full of children no older than thirteen. There were lots of curious faces. Cassia had to suppose she could simply sit wherever she wished.

Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she walked over to the sparsest table (the one closest to the door, surprise, surprise, the children knew something was wrong) and started picking at her food. It took about forty seconds for a little boy, maybe ten years old, to slide closer to her, and another thirty for him to speak. "I'm Ethan."

Ethan Moore. Nine years old. He had about four years left. Cassia had read his file.

Cassia gave him a short smile, unwilling to be rude to a child, even in this situation. She had no experience with children, and wasn't sure entirely how to respond. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Cassia."

"Are you a nurse? You don't look much like one."

At this point, Cassia was conscious that the other two children on the table had sidled closer to listen. She cleared her throat awkwardly. "No. I'm just here with my mother. She works here."

"I saw you come in," said a girl. "You were with the woman with the pretty monkey. My dæmon can be a monkey, want to see?"

Before getting a response, a small snake slithered out of her sleeve and onto the table, promptly turning into a small squirrel monkey, as different to her mother's dæmon as a workboot to a stiletto. It was cute, really cute, almost as cute as the girl it belonged to, who looked a similar age to Ethan, but Cassia just felt nauseous at the sight. She didn't like monkeys.

"It's lovely," she forced out as she pushed her plate away, still half full, and stood up. With no hesitation, Ethan scraped what was left onto his plate and began eating.

Cassia was about to leave when something caught her eye. There, sat on a table next to the wall, sat a girl she recognised, who was also staring at her with undisguised horror. She looked away quickly. There was no need to draw any attention by stating like a lunatic.

Not trusting her own instincts, Cassia bent down and let Rio out of the bag, ignoring the gasps when the children saw him. He was exceptionally pretty, even for a cat, and it had always garnered a reaction from simple minds, much like her mother's dæmon. "Tell me that's not who I think it is," she muttered, too low for anyone to hear.

He cast his eyes around the room imperiously, and she knew exactly when he saw her by the hitch in his breath. "It's exactly who you think it is."

Wonderful. "I need to speak to her, but..." Not here. Not where anyone could listen.

Rio flicked his tail up in the air and arched his back so he looked smugger than usual, and Cassia took the hint. She copied him, straightening up until she walked like her mother, all confidence and importance. Rio trailed her, looking every inch the dutiful adult dæmon. Together they approached a nurse, who's expression could be described as out of her depth.

"I wish to return to my rooms," Cassia said as brattily as possible, hoping she didn't sound like an idiot.

The nurse was clearly flustered, nodding her head in a way almost reminiscent of a tiny bow. Perfect. "If you've forgotten the way, I can-"

"I remember the way," she interrupted. "I don't need you for that. I just want some company to play a card game with or something, since mother's busy."

"Oh," the nurse said uncomfortably. "I can't really leave my post."

"I don't mean you. I want someone closer to my age." Looking younger would help here, because judging by the look of the nurse, she was fairly young. At sixteen, Cassia was possibly closer in age to her, but she looked more akin to the elder children.

The nurse now looked truly panicked. "I'm afraid the children are supposed to-"

"My mother said I could do whatever I wanted to entertain myself while she's in meetings, and she runs the facility so I'm sure her word is worth more than yours. And what I want to do is play a game with someone my age."

The reminder of Cassia's mother clearly spooked the nurse, as she fell over herself to concede. "Well, if Mrs Coulter has no objections I don't see a problem. Just please make sure the girl is back in their dorm by their nine o'clock bedtime."

Already walking away, Cassia waved her off. "Of course."

She made a beeline for the table by the wall. "Excuse me, do any of you want to come and hang out in my rooms? It's so boring here; I need to talk to someone younger than thirty five."

A couple of girls giggled sychophantically, and most hands at the table went up. Cassia beamed. "Perfect!" She grabbed the one hand that was decidedly not up, and immediately started walking away, trusting Rio to inform her victim's dæmon what was going on. She could see him walking stately next to the little pine marten.

Once away from prying eyes in Cassia's room within the apartment, all pretences were dropped. Cassia stared with wide eyes at the thirteen year old in front of her, who looked absolutely terrified. "What are you doing here?" She exclaimed, breaking the stony silence.

The other girl glared in response. "You said you didn't know!"

"I didn't! I found out after you left and she dragged me here so I couldn't tell anyone!"

The glare disappeared, replaced by trepidation as the younger girl looked furtively around at the fine furnishings. "I can't be here. She might find me."

"I know," Cassia said, letting out a choked laugh at the other girl's surprised face. "Trust me, I know, Lyra."

Lyra edged closer, doubt written on her face. Her body language said she was trying to gauge Cassia, who knew exactly what was coming next. "Do you know..."

"Yes."

Cassia blinked her suddenly burning eyes, and found herself unable to look at Lyra.

Tension hung in the air. After a moment, Cassia jerked back into action, feeling the same horror she'd felt when she first saw Lyra's face. "You have to go. How are you even here?"

"I can't," Lyra started, but Cassia wouldn't take it.

"No, you don't understand, you have to get out of here. They-"

"I know!" Lyra yelled, Pantalaimon shifting into a small fox in her anger and fear. "They cut kids' dæmons. That's why I gotta stop them."

Cassia faltered. Of course Lyra knew. It explained her total hysteria back in the city. And here she was, ready to fight back and change things while all Cassia had done was cry. A steel resolve settled over her as she stared at her sister's resolute face, and wordlessly both she and Rio agreed.

"What can I do to help?"


End file.
